


Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

by reddie-in-the-stars (miss_melilot)



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fluffy Ending, M/M, seriously so fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 09:59:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13211379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_melilot/pseuds/reddie-in-the-stars
Summary: While living in California for school with Richie, Eddie starts feeling a little homesick. Richie cheers him up.





	Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> For @canthelpfallingforelvis on Tumblr for the IT Fandom Secret Santa. Sorry this is so late, but I hope you enjoy! <3

When Eddie opens his eyes on the morning of December 24, all he can do is sigh. Richie is curled behind him on the bed, arms wrapped around Eddie's waist and face buried in his neck as Richie snores softly. Richie feels like a warm blanket draped around him, raising the temperature from what looks to be only a mildly cold California winter.

Eddie glances out the window; the streets look mostly the same as when he and Richie had moved to Los Angeles last August. It's a strange sight for a boy used to seeing heaping piles of snow covering the earth and icicles weighing down the trees as they do in Maine. A heavy wave of homesickness rolls through him, pushing down on his lungs until he almost can't breathe. 

But perhaps _homesickness_ isn't the right word. He doesn't miss Derry and its small-mindedness, nor does he miss his mother, who had kicked him out of the house when he'd told her he was going to California with Richie. What he longs for is familiarity, something recognizable in a season that up until now had always been filled with children riding sleds down snow-covered hills, bundling up in four layers just to get the mail, and multi-colored lights reflecting off the icy sidewalks. California has lights, to be sure, but the shades and shadows of them feel different.

Eddie shivers a little, moving back against Richie's slumbering heat. He wishes he could afford to buy strings of Christmas lights and a small tree to fit in their dorm room, but money is tight, especially with his mother having cut off his tuition fund for daring to leave Maine—not least of all with a _boy_ —for school. He works in a coffee shop on campus, and he does moderately well. But he still can barely make his half of the rent.

Richie works two jobs, one in a record store and one at a movie theater, and so he brings in a bit more cash than Eddie. But it still hardly feels like enough for either of them. Of course, both boys are happy simply to have a space for themselves. However sparse it might look, it's filled to the brim with love and laughter.

Eddie smiles a little. He can't help it when it comes to Richie, the loudmouth boy he'd known since forever who somehow managed to up and steal his heart when Eddie wasn't looking. Richie had always known how to rile Eddie up just so...but then, Eddie had never wondered why he always responded to Richie when he could have easily walked away. 

But that was just it. Eddie loved the rest of the Losers, but Richie was the one who somehow knew how to reach Eddie when the world felt like it was ending. When Eddie found out his medication was fake. When Eddie realized he was gay. When Eddie decided to go out for cheerleading despite his mother's extreme disapproval. Through all of it, Richie had been by his side, irritating the hell out of him but also managing to understand Eddie in ways that no one else ever had—or probably ever would. Eddie had been sixteen when he realized just how head over heels he was with Richie, and everything had just...fallen into place. 

Sure, they'd had their difficulties—every couple did. But Richie had always wanted to know everything about Eddie, and that included learning how to make him feel better when Eddie didn't know what to do anymore. It had been Richie who had finally convinced Eddie to see a doctor for his anxiety and occasional dissociative episodes. 

So when Richie confessed to loving Eddie, it had been easy for Eddie to return the words. Because they were true. 

Eddie had figured out how to take care of Richie as well—having him stay with Eddie most nights so he didn't have to be alone, learning ways to help him calm down, figuring out what riled and soothed him. 

Being here in California together felt like a culmination of all those years. It felt _right_. But that didn't mean that Eddie didn't find himself looking around sometimes and wondering where the hell he was. 

Richie stirs behind him, yawning into Eddie's neck before pressing a sleepy kiss there. His hand traces patterns over Eddie's belly, soft and intimate.

"Morning, little love," Richie murmurs, his breath warm against Eddie's ear.

"Morning," Eddie says. 

There must be something in the way Eddie says this because Richie sits up, looking down at Eddie with a quizzical expression. He reaches out for his glasses sitting on the nightstand; putting them on magnifies the look on his face.

"What's wrong, Eds?" Richie asks, head tilted to the side. His dark hair has gotten longer over the years, falling in silky-looking spirals over his ears and neck. His freckles look soft in the morning light, dusky smudges that Eddie loves to trace over with fingers and then kisses. 

"Nothing," Eddie murmurs, looking away. Looking into Richie's eyes always led to spilling his guts, and this is the last thing Eddie wants to do at the moment. 

Richie, of course, doesn't believe Eddie for a second. He opens his arms. "Come here."

Eddie sighs but then sits up to crawl into Richie's lap. Richie's arms wrap around him, safe and secure as Eddie rests his cheek against Richie's chest. 

"What's wrong?" Richie asks again, mouth pressed into Eddie's thick brown hair. 

"It's stupid," Eddie says.

Richie waits.

"I just...I miss Christmas in Derry, I guess," Eddie finally says, cringing a little at his own words. "It's not Derry, though...it's—"

"Everything else," Richie finishes for him, nodding. 

"Told you it was stupid," Eddie mutters.

"No, it isn't," Richie says, hand coming up to card through Eddie's hair as his mouth moves to rest against Eddie's temple. "I know I've called you stupid plenty of times, but I don't really think you are."

Eddie laughs a little, in spite of himself. "Gee, thanks." He pauses. "Merry Christmas, Rich."

"Merry Christmas, baby." 

After that, Richie pulls a lethargic Eddie from the warm blankets and tells him to get dressed. Stan and Bill are visiting for the holidays, and they're arriving this afternoon. Beverly, Ben, and Mike weren't able to make it, but each of them sent their love in the form of presents and baked goods. 

"Stan the Man and Big Bill will cheer you up," Richie says, gently pushing Eddie into the bathroom so they can take a shower. "Well, maybe. Bill will probably stutter like an idiot, and Stan will just roll his eyes at you."

"Stan will roll his eyes at _you_."

"Semantics, my boy. _Semantics_."

The day seems to roll by slowly after that. Richie and Eddie pick Stan and Bill up from the airport early that afternoon, and there is indeed some stuttering from excitement—though not as much as Richie predicted—and plenty of eye rolling, mostly directed at Richie's usual antics.

Eddie is grateful for some small measure of familiarity to cling to in the form of two of his best friends. Los Angeles may not seem anything like Derry, but hearing his friends laughing and ribbing each other as they walk down the street feels more like home to Eddie than anything has in weeks.

Later that day as they're heading out for dinner, Richie says, "Oh, hey, I forgot something at the dorm. You guys go on ahead; I'll catch up."

"What? What's at our dorm?" Eddie asks, confused. 

"Just something for Christmas. Don't worry about it, Eds."

Eddie huffs a little but allows Stan and Bill to pull him toward a restaurant not too far from campus. Richie can easily walk there from the dorm, so Eddie isn't too worried. But it's still strange.

It gets stranger when Richie never shows up for dinner. Bill and Stan keep Eddie distracted for the most part, but as the clock ticks toward eight, Eddie starts to feel uneasy. The hearty smell of the diner, normally comforting, becomes nauseating as the worry rises, resting so heavily on his tongue he feels he might choke. 

Back in Derry, Eddie wouldn't have thought much, but this is L.A. What if Richie got mugged? Or got ran over? _Or murdered?_

"Guys," Eddie says, interrupting Bill's story about Stan getting stuck in their closet for nearly an hour. "Something's wrong. Richie should be here by now."

Bill and Stan glance at each other. 

"I'm sure he's fine," Stan says. "He probably just got caught up in something."

Eddie watches the two look at each other again, and he frowns deeply, anger starting to lick at his insides.

"What's going on?" he asks. "Do you guys know something I don't?"

"No," Bill says, a little too quickly. "We just g-got here."

"I'm sure he's fine," Stan repeats.

"Thank you both for the concern," Eddie snaps. "I'm going to go check on my boyfriend. Stay here if you want."

"W-wait, Eddie—"

Eddie ignores Bill, wriggling out of the booth and laying down a few bills to cover his food, most of which still sat untouched. He vaguely hears both Bill and Stan calling for him to stay, but he can't. The last thing he needs right now is to find Richie lying in some alley, bruised and beaten. If he's overreacting, so be it.

He hurries outside the diner and books it toward the dorm. His legs, long despite his small stature, still carry a lot of the muscle he'd gained from cheerleading throughout high school, and so the run to his apartment passes by quickly. A small part of him feels horrible for leaving Bill and Stan like that, but he figures they won't go too far to where he can't find them again. 

Eddie casts cursory glances down the few alleys between the diner and his apartment, but he sees nothing of interest. Nothing _Richie_. So he continues on to the dorm, breathing heavily in the strangely warm winter air. 

When Eddie reaches their hallway, he can see dim light seeping from under his and Richie's door. He pauses for a second at the sight, a frown rising on his lips. He yanks his house key from his pocket, jamming it into the door before throwing the door open.

"You've been here this whole fucking time—" Eddie shouts breathlessly before his words quickly cut off.

Richie stands in a corner of the room, hands thrown up in defense as he stares at Eddie with a slightly baffled expression. Behind him is a Christmas tree—small and skinny, but covered in lights, garland, and ribbon. Christmas lights are strung overhead, multiple strands crisscrossing the ceiling and bathing the room in warm, multi-colored light. White fairy lights hang above their bed, and thick, cozy blankets emblazoned with snowflakes are piled inviting on top of it. 

"Shit, I wasn't ready for you yet," Richie says, hands lowering to his sides. "I was going to make you hot chocolate before Stan and Bill brought you back." 

Eddie's mouth opens and closes, unable to form words. 

Richie grins. "Do you like it?"

Eddie stands speechless for a few more seconds. Then, "Richie...how...how did you do this? How did you buy all this stuff?"

"Oh, you know, picked up a few extra shifts here and there," Richie replies, rubbing the back of his head in the way he does when he feels nervous.

"But...you shouldn't have to work more because of me...I-I...." Eddie's voice trails off as he looks around the room again before his eyes land back on Richie.

Richie grins. "But do you like it, baby?"

Eddie smiles so wide, his cheeks hurt. "Yeah," he whispers. 

"Good," Richie says, relieved. "I've got one more thing for you."

Eddie wants to ask what more Richie could possibly do for him, but he only watches as Richie turns to their boombox, slips a mixtape inside, and presses play. 

Warmth spreads through him as the voice of Judy Garland fills the room. 

_"[Have yourself a merry little Christmas. Let your heart be light. Next year all our troubles will be out of sight](https://open.spotify.com/track/2Ys2W5325tmTjGggy7u2l4)."_

"Richie," he whispers, voice thick.

Richie walks up to him and gently pulls Eddie into his arms, moving them in a soft, swaying sort of dance to the music. Eddie's arms wrap around his neck as Richie's come around Eddie's waist, bringing them closer together. Eddie smiles, letting a few tears fall as Richie rests his forehead against Eddie's. 

"Don't cry, sweet pea," Richie murmurs, tenderly brushing the tears away from Eddie's cheeks.

"I...I'm just so happy," Eddie says, laughing a little as Richie twirls him around. "You make me happy."

Richie smiles at that, eyes crinkling in that way he has. 

_It's true_ , Eddie thinks. _Richie makes me happy_. 

He had felt so lost and off kilter in this strange land of California that he had momentarily forgotten that he already had a familiar home here—in Richie.   

When Stan and Bill burst into the room a while later to see Richie and Eddie still dancing, Eddie can't bring himself to feel too badly about leaving them anymore. Not when Richie had been waiting for him.

When Richie leans down to kiss him, his lips against Eddie's feel like coming home.

"Merry Christmas, babe," Richie says against his lips.

"Merry Christmas, 'Chee."


End file.
